A blank page, is a magnificent thing, Serving me so well throughout the years, as far back as i can remember. It was the one place where i have often found myself free, unbound and empowered.
The blank page has graciously harbored my fugitive thoughts time and time again; bored in class, on the bus, even during those pointless O levels, it has provided me with an outlet that is ill-replaced by any other means. It is when I am most comfortable, my emotions dancing on the page in the form of script, careless, like nymphs on a meadow. It is with a blank page, that i have shared my most intimate thoughts, my fears, my dreams and my ideas.
On a blank page, i have played God, writing stories of lives that had not lived till i penned them into existence. The page, and i, a marriage, birthing like Cane and Abel, words of inspiration and desolation, Humour and sorrow, of Love and its painful void.
The Blank Page, a simple manifestation of infinity, one who's secrets are endless, ever present, and always revealed with the simplest question. The Blank page, my friend, my counselor, my Legacy...
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